Assembling the First-War Order of the Phoenix Part 2: Nicolas Flamel
by NailBiter360
Summary: Nicolas Flamel has seen too many wars to sit idly by when yet another one breaks out.


Written for the International Wizarding School Championship Finals, standing in for Beauxbatons' second-year student.

This is the second part of a series written by the Beauxbatons team, it's set after Liz Jean Tonk's story which starts off the series and is followed by xoxoVanillaOrchidxoxo's.

School: Beauxbatons

Theme: Conjuring and vanishing

Year: 2 (stand-in)

Main Prompt: [Era] First Wizarding War

Additional Prompts: [Setting] Your school (Beauxbatons); [Quote] 'There are two kinds of evil people in this world. People who do evil stuff, and people who see evil stuff being done and don't try to stop it'—Janis Ian, Mean Girls.

Linking: the Order of the Phoenix; the First War

Word Count: 1633

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Assembling the First-War Order of the Phoenix

Part 2: Nicolas Flamel

Nicolas Flamel faced a dilemma.

Perhaps 'dilemma' was too strong a word. Or perhaps it wasn't strong enough. It was difficult to tell when the problem was barely even a problem at all. But his friend Albus was correct in his assumption that the situation would not be resolved by being ignored. If left unattended, it would only escalate. That was what darkness did without light to fight it.

Nicolas's old bones creaked in complaint as he bent to check beneath his bed for his shoe. His wife, Perenelle, always said that he'd lose his head if it weren't attached to his shoulders. He supposed that was true, which made him very lucky to have her because while he had a talent for losing things, she was very good at finding them. Unfortunately, though, at the moment, she wasn't around to help him locate his missing shoe. After over six hundred years of marriage, separate holidays were more than necessary to continue living together peacefully—which was the reason for Nicolas's visit to his old school. One of them, anyway.

He eventually gave up his search and conjured himself a new pair of shoes. They weren't as comfortable as his old pair, but he was in too great a hurry to be choosy.

Looking as good as a man who was fast approaching his seven-hundredth birthday could, he left his chamber, starting the long trek down the marble corridors toward his classroom. It had been very kind of Headmistress Maxime to give him the best room that Beauxbatons had to offer, but all these stairs were becoming more and more daunting every day.

The long journey down from his tower gave him plenty of time to ruminate over current affairs as he attempted to distract himself from his aching joints.

This Tom Riddle character had seemingly emerged from nothing. It was thirty years since Tom Riddle had left Hogwarts, but to anyone as old as Nicolas, that was only yesterday. Indeed, Flamel was one of the very few who remembered the brilliant youngster and could recognise him in the waxy countenance and reddened eyes of the self-proclaimed Lord Voldemort, a name meaning the flight of death—an odd name, but it had a certain ring to it. According to Albus Dumbledore, Voldemort and his band of followers were responsible for the recent disappearances happening all over Britain, and in Nicolas's experience, the Hogwarts Headmaster was seldom wrong.

The British Ministry of Magic was not of the same mind, though. Despite the growing threat, they were looking the other way, preferring the illusion of peace to the dire reality that was creeping toward them. But no adversary—no matter how young, small, or seemingly powerless they might be—ought to be underestimated. Nicolas had seen people make that mistake countless times, and he knew that the consequences for such negligence could be disastrous.

However, he could not expect those who were so much younger than he was to learn from his many mistakes—especially when he was still prone to repeating them. Half a century ago, he had underestimated Gellert Grindelwald. Four years ago, as the threat had begun to materialise, he had underestimated Tom Riddle. But while Nicolas was a slow learner, Albus was not. He had been keeping a close eye on the Riddle boy, ever since an incident at Hogwarts during which a student had died. He had suspected that the boy had played a part in the dismal affair, but without proof, Nicolas knew that there had been little that Albus could do.

But now that his friend's worst fears had been confirmed and that they were heading into yet another war, Nicolas knew that Albus would not sit idly by and let that darkness corrupt the world.

A couple of weeks ago, Nicolas's old friend had paid him a visit in Paris. Small talk had been kept to a minimum, and Albus had told Nicolas about his plan to form a secret organisation intent on stopping Voldemort before he grew any more powerful.

Nicolas was always happy to help a friend, but at his age, there was only a certain amount he could do. Fortunately, Albus knew his limitations and asked little of him. Offering a safe house to those fighting the darkness was easy enough, as was passing on whatever information he could get obtain.

He needed to rest before confronting the next set of stairs. Beauxbatons was a truly beautiful school, looking like a castle from a fairytale, gleaming like a gem atop its mountain, but it was not designed for the old. The only place Nicolas had ever seen with more stairs was Hogwarts, and he had vowed never to visit that school again because he was convinced that his knees would never recover. He was willing to sacrifice his comfort for Beauxbatons, though, because it had the best library in the world. It was there that he had first come up with the blueprint for his greatest creation: the Philosopher's Stone. A substance capable of transforming any metal into pure gold and producing the Elixir of Life, which had the power to make the drinker immortal. The Stone was the reason for Nicolas's longevity and his fame. It was his most precious possession.

Of course, he could not visit his old school without giving a few classes and doing his part to educate the young by giving them a taste of the joys of invention. After all, innovative minds were the path to a greater future.

He conjured a walking stick to make the descent easier on his stiff joints, but before he could resume his trek, a bird swooped in through an open window. His eyesight was not yet so bad that he could not recognise a phoenix when he saw one, and that particular phoenix he knew well, although he had seldom seen it so young. It was barely older than a fledgeling; no other bird could have managed such a long flight at such a young age, but phoenixes were immensely strong and reliable beasts.

The bird circled overhead, and Flamel looked up and down the staircase to be sure that no one was around to witness this, but he should have trusted Fawkes to know when the coast was clear. The phoenix flew closer and dropped an envelope into Nicolas's outstretched hands. The old man was thankful that the envelope had not landed on the floor because the effort required to bend down might have been too much for him.

It was clear that Albus was not expecting a reply because Fawkes did one final swoop and flew back out into open air. Nicolas watched the sun glinting on the bird's brilliant orange plumage until he could no longer see it, then turned his attention to the envelope in his hands.

With hands trembling from age, he tore the thick paper embossed with the Hogwarts seal. The letter bore Albus's calligraphic script, but its irregularity showed that the Headmaster had written in great haste.

_ Dear friend,_

_ I fear that Lord Voldemort has set his sights on the Philosopher's Stone. _

_ It has come to my attention that, whilst at Hogwarts, he made some distressing inquiries regarding immortality, and I do not doubt that the Elixir of Life has been brought to his attention._

_ Know that I do not doubt your ability, my friend, but if Voldemort were to get his hands on the Stone, all would be lost. We cannot defeat an immortal enemy capable of creating riches from copper and tin. The Stone must be protected._

_ I do not wish to overstep my boundaries, but we must act quickly. I have arranged for a trusted ally to visit you at Beauxbatons in the coming weeks, after the end of term when all of the students will be away for the summer holidays. She will be tasked with safely transporting the Stone to England where I will personally ensure that it is placed in Hogwarts' vault at Gringotts. It is the most secure place that I know of._

_ If you have a safer location in mind, I would welcome your thoughts. You know better than most what that Stone could do in the wrong hands, and I trust your insight._

_ I pray that you are well, old friend, and that we will see each other soon._

_ Please ensure this letter is completely destroyed once you are finished reading._

_ Yours truly,_

_ Albus Dumbledore._

Nicolas read through the letter twice more before hastily vanishing it.

So Voldemort had discovered the whereabouts of the Stone. This news was far worse than he'd anticipated. Albus was correct, of course; Nicolas did know how dangerous his creation could be in the hands of a Dark wizard, and he could not let that happen. He would do everything within his power to prevent evil from getting its hands on such a powerful artefact, and if that meant that he would have to part with it, then so be it.

He trusted Albus Dumbledore with his life, and his wife's life also, and if Albus said that Gringotts was the safest place for the Philosopher's Stone, then that was where it would be kept.

Nicolas would wait for Albus's envoy and do his best to protect the Stone until she arrived. And then he would delve deeply into his research, seeking any bit of information that might help good prevail. He was old and infirm, but he would not let the evils of this world run rampant while he still had the power to slow their progress even a little. He would not allow his inaction to turn him into an accomplice of all that was bad in this world.

He would do his part. For the common good.


End file.
